She
by painteditred
Summary: I love you. I love you too. I always will. I always have. Ron is consumed with guilt at his past actions. Does Hermione have what it takes to forgive and forget, or are some things too hard to let go of.
1. Chapter 1

**No copyright infringement intended whatsoever. Harry Potter doesn't belong to me in any way, I write purely for fun :)**

She was not a foolish girl, and to have her intelligence insulted in such ways was certainly unpleasant. Hermione Granger had known Ron for over seven years and for the duration had spent the majority of her time loyally by his side as one of his very best friends - for him to suggest that she couldn't tell when there was something bothering him was practically absurd. It had been going on for almost a month now, constant bad moods, lack of apparent interest in absolutely anything and a dreadfully unfriendly temperament. Nothing she tried, said, or did seemed to heighten his spirits, her constant affection seeming if anything only to push him further away. She never let him see her cry.

*

_She knew when she wasn't wanted – the way he got up and left any room she came into was proof enough of that._

_She knew when her best efforts simply weren't enough – after days and weeks of trying her hardest, she was sure of that._

_She knew when she should probably give up – she just knew._

*

"If you would only tell me the problem Ronald, perhaps I could help you." She noted how she reverted to using his full name when she was annoyed with him, a habit she'd picked up years before.

The redhead shrugged, "perhaps" he mused "- assuming of course there was something up with me. I've told you over and over Hermione, I'm fine!"

He looked practically depressed as he stretched out across the plush red sofa, his thick muscular arms outstretched above his head, a look of deep anguish painted across his freckled face. His overall air of sadness upsetting to behold, Hermione went back to pretending to read her text book; however her eyes couldn't focus on the words only centimetres away, her mind practically humming with possibilities of things that could cause Ron's terrible mood. The minutes ticked slowly by, interrupted only by Ron fidgeting on the sofa, clearly uneasy. When the silence became too much for Hermione to stomach, she broke it.

"We live together Ron, you can't escape me forever." She said desperately, for he was looking longingly towards the door, and no doubt the solitude which outside offered. "I'm not being nosey, only you've barely eaten for two days now, which on its own can't be that nice for you, and I can hardly hold a civilised conversation with you at the best of times!" Hermione was close to tears. "I'm worried for you Ron."

Glancing towards her, a meek smile on his face, Ron said "There's no need to be worried 'Mione, honestly, I'll have something to eat later." Tears trickled down her cheeks, huge droplets falling onto the page of her book beneath her, she turned away. Ron didn't need to see.

"This isn't just about you not eating, though I must admit it's certainly out of character" her attempt at subtle humour was clearly lost on him as his expression remained vacant "I hate to see you this way, it upsets me. There's nothing that can be bothering you that you can't talk over with me, come on Ron I'm your girlfriend – I'm here for you. I want to be here for you!"

Deflated, Hermione returned his smile as she lifted herself from the lounge chair she'd been sitting in, and replacing her book on the bookcase neatly with her wand, leant to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "I love you, Ron – I want you to know that."

"Me too."

She hurriedly left the room before he had chance to catch the sight of the tears already flowing freely down her flushed cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here are the first two chapters, I'll upload the rest over the duration of the week :) I really hope you enjoy my work.  
No copyright infringement intended whatsoever :)  
Review if you like, and also if you dislike. **

Hermione woke to an empty bed, and upon inspection she noted, an equally empty house. After a brief glace around the kitchen she deduced he had left no note or indication to his whereabouts whatsoever, and though his complete lack of thought or care cut into her like an icy knife - she wasn't surprised. Sighing, she sat down at the table, lazily summoning herself a bowl which she filled with her favourite cereal and milk. She cussed quietly as she realised she had forgotten a spoon, lately she hadn't been as precise with her spells, and though she was loathed to admit it, she knew exactly the reason behind this sudden change of character.

It was a Saturday; she wouldn't be expected at work for a whole three more hours. Sinking further down into the wooden kitchen chair, she proceeded to slowly chew her cereal, thoroughly demolishing each and every mouth full before finally swallowing. By the time she had ploughed her way through the entire bowl and set the dishes to clean in the sink, she was left with two hours and thirty minutes. She briefly contemplated sending Ron an owl, asking him his plans for the day, but shot down that idea remembering suddenly she had no idea where the hell he was.

By the time she was finally walking through her office door, the entire house was spotless, including the garden which she scarcely even set foot in. She would freely admit; cleaning was the only way she had found to manage stress, though it hadn't managed it all that well this time, merely subdued it slightly. Grimly she thought back to the days when a brief trip to the library would calm and soothe her, when her only necessary companions were made of parchment and binding.

She was eternally grateful at times like these of her position in the Ministry - being the head of the Office of Magical Creature Liaison meant she was continually distracted by the trivial matters of her employees ("The paper is jammed in the photo-what-sitter Miss Granger, I've been summoning it for hours now – it won't budge") and the severely more serious matters of her peers ("There have now been eighteen raids upon Gringotts, You-Know-Who's ever faithful servants I'd wager. Not much good it'll do them now I suppose, but the Goblins simply won't stand for it any longer"). She thoroughly enjoyed her job; it gave her the assurance that she was doing some good in the world, while at the same time letting her work amongst people with the same ideas and beliefs as herself. She desperately wished that Ron shared her views on magical creatures, but she had given up preaching to him, it only enraged him.

When Ron pushed open her office door, she was busy compiling a paper on The Importance of The Fair Treatment of Our Goblin Equals. She quickly glanced up in surprise, but instantly returned to her work, pretending not to have noticed his presence. She noted with a hint of displeasure that he was certainly dressed to impress, even if the only person he succeeded in impressing was her. He had on a pair of dark blue shorts, which came to just above his knee; they showed off the muscles in his legs perfectly. He'd teamed the shorts with a white rugby jumper; it was casual yet somehow irresistible.

"Babe," his voice sounded pleasant enough, she however didn't look up from her parchment as she replied.

"Hello Ronald, how're you?" She tried her hardest to keep her tone level, but worried slightly that she may have lost her nerve towards the end.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the parchment in front of her, she only just caught sight of him striding into her office to hover over her. "I'm fine, thank you. What's this you're doing?"

Bitterly she snapped at him. "Oh don't pretend to care, you'll only show yourself up." She was still incredibly sore at being left in bed alone, with no explanation. For him to simply waltz in on her at work was in her opinion cocky, and essentially rude.

Ignoring her quip he bent lower to examine the paper, muttering the title quietly under his breath. The scent of her favourite aftershave on his neck made her quiver. Turning his face sideways towards hers, he leant towards her further still, and kissed her lightly on her cheek. Her eyes closed in delight, perhaps he was feeling recovered and better still, was perhaps even up to divulging just what had plagued him over the past weeks. Her eyes shot open.

"Where were you this morning?" Her tone demanding, "I wake up and you're gone! No note, no owl sent to me at work, no phone call, though I daresay that's slightly beyond your limited ability…"

Feigning deafness, or perhaps simply ignoring her, he smiled "could we go for a walk later 'Mione?" He outstretched his hand and placed it on hers "Meet me on The White Lane," his smile faltered. "We need to talk."

*

_He didn't return home with her, instead opting to call to The Burrow to "collect some things" – she could always tell when he was lying. _

_She changed without taking the time to check the clothes she was putting on. Perhaps they didn't match, perhaps they were even unclean – she needed to leave the house._

_Hurriedly inspecting the time on her watch as she hurried down the front path and out of the gate she broke into a small jog – she shouldn't keep him waiting too long._

_She was a girl and therefore knew the words "we need to talk" were never followed by pleasantries. _

*

It was times like these, she wished for a few female friends. Colleagues were fine for the day to day occasions: they were someone to accompany you out for drinks or something to eat; when your birthday came around they bought you pleasant gifts and wished you many happy returns, colleagues however, didn't do for times such as these. She mentally cursed herself for all of the occasions where she'd turned down shopping trips with Ginny, or chosen to get ahead with the following days work than to see Angelina for a catch up, as much as she dreaded the thought of a "catch up" with anybody, a friend like that would certainly come in handy around now.

On the short journey from the small cottage she had shared with Ron for the past year to The White Lane – a track that joined all the surrounding fields in the area and a common haunt for people wishing to enjoy a romantic afternoon picnic - Hermione had mulled over every eventuality of their upcoming conversation. She had broken into a cold sweat at the very thought of the worst possible outcome (which she resolutely avoided admitting to herself) and her hair was sticking to her forehead in what felt like an incredibly unattractive fashion, she brushed it away and hurried on. Her stomach bubbled and squirmed in anticipation, to the extent that she almost felt sick. For a girl like her, who relied solely on fact and certainties, a situation like this which left so much up to chance was almost unbearable. She was out of her depth.

She stopped jogging the second she caught sight of him, instead struggling for a steadily paced stroll. He was stood with his hands jammed roughly into his pockets, one foot kicking the dust on the ground and forming little clouds around his ankles.

"Cheers for meeting me here 'Mione," she noted the false affection as he reached out to grasp her hand, she was certainly sceptical. "It's just that we need to talk, and I'd rather do it out here, it's loads nicer than being stuck up in the house."

She merely nodded. For a moment she considered mentioning the fact that Ron had in fact been "stuck up in the house" for almost three weeks now, but bit her lip. He squeezed her hand; it took all her remaining strength to return the gesture.


	3. Chapter 3

**No copyright infringement intended whatsoever. This was never intended to be a long story, and I think 4 chapters should do it. I've enjoyed writing this and I hope you've enjoyed reading it just as much. Sorry about how the italics messed up on the first chapter, it looks weird and I apologise. **

*

"_This is going to sound daft, I just know it is." She smiled at his obvious embarrassment as his cheeks flushed slightly._

_She reached out and seized his hand from by his side, encompassing it in her own. She took comfort in the fact that it was a little clammy – she wasn't the only one who was nervous. "You don't have to be embarrassed in front of me Ron, I won't laugh at you." The red head beamed._

"_Well how about if I muck it up? You'll hate me for ever; you're that kind of girl."_

"_Ron, you won't muck it up."_

"_Alright then, but on your head be it."_

_She answered him merely with a smirk. On the back of his hand she began tracing relaxing circles, noticing his expression calming slightly, she continued._

"_I love you."_

_*_

"_But that's just the thing; it's not simple at all. Maybe for you, Miss Extraordinary, but not me – he's my best mate!"_

"_Yes, and she's your sister!"_

"_She's in the wrong here Hermione, so don't stick up for her; she's done nothing but mess him about. I mean, I suppose I warned him so he should have been on the look out, but…"_

"_But he loved her."_

"_Yeah, she didn't love him though did she?"_

"_I don't think that's true Ron."_

"_He caught her snogging the face off Lee Jordan, does that sound like something someone in love would do? 'Cause if so, I think you're a bit confused."_

"_She made a bad decision."_

"_People… who do that…it's wrong, they're bad. It's not just - oh heavens, sorry terrible mistake - it's wrong!"_

"_Mostly."_

"_No, always."_

"_I disagree."_

"_You always do."_

*

"_So you don't trust me." It wasn't a question; he didn't expect her to answer. "That's what it's all about, I've done nothing wrong but you still don't trust me."_

"_I have never said that I don't trust you, so don't you put words in my mouth Ronald Weasley!" Her tears were falling thick and fast, she had forgotten just when the crying had started but by this point it was becoming painful, they stung her skin. "You make me doubt whether or not I should trust you sometimes, but I will always trust you – despite my better judgement, I always will. _

"_So I shouldn't have friends, is that what you're saying?" His face was steadily reddening with rage. "You don't trust me around other girls. Which is your way of saying – don't be friends with them."_

"_I didn't say that Ron."_

"_You didn't need to."_

*

"_I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

"_I always will."_

"_I always have."_


	4. Chapter 4

**The final installment. Thank you to the people who've read this, it's very nice of you to spend your time reading my work :)  
No copyright infringement intended, as always.**

"So… you cheated?"

His entire body shook with what he would say was anguish – she would argue guilt. His face scarcely recognisable from tear marks and sore, chapped skin, he raised his head and gazed at her. She glared.

"What?"

*

"So, you kissed her right?"

He said nothing, or perhaps he did and she simply hadn't deciphered the words – she didn't care.

"It was more than a kiss? You fucked her."

*

She could pin point the exact moment it had happened. She had accused him, he hadn't denied. He may as well have run about the place waving a banner with the words "WHY YES DEAR, I FUCKED HER" emblazoned across. It was crude, disgustingly so. From that point on, all Hermione could process or remember were expanses of darkness, a haunting darkness combined with a sickening emptiness. Similar to the hunger felt by a starving man, yet no amount of over indulgence could tame the pangs. She had no desire to tell anyone about it, if they found out then by all means they could enjoy the gossip if they liked, of course however it would pass, like every bit of gossip does. Inevitably something more interesting and extreme will come along, and the story about Ron Weasley and the Mystery Girl from Accounting would be all but obsolete. She gave it a month – tops.

*

"_She means nothing to me; it was a spur of the moment thing. I'd had something to drink and it happened, I'll swear to you now I did not plan it, I did no such thing."_

"_Hoorah for you, Ronald Weasley."_

"_Say something Hermione: shout at me, hit me, say you hate me and want to kill me right here and now. Say something."_

"_Hoorah?" _

"_It was…"_

"_A bad decision?"_

_*_

The second he told her, she thought she may have been sick. She couldn't quite remember for certain but she could vividly recall the definite feeling of nausea.

_She felt hollow, a hole she couldn't fill._

_She felt betrayed, trust that was once sacred to her, thrown away – discarded. _

_She felt numb; nothing seemed the right emotion, nothing was enough._

_She felt alone, the only person she had counted on, let her down.  
She felt humiliated; she had given everything, including herself._

_She felt, childish, sad, and heart-broken._

That was all she had. She had gone from so much, to so little - from everything, to nothing, it was out of her hands, and out of her control. She shouldn't have given someone the power to break her in such cruel ways and she wouldn't again; she knew someone can only be broken into so many pieces before they're completely unrecognisable.


End file.
